


Serpent's Kiss

by Liara_90



Category: RWBY
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Emotional Manipulation, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, One Shot, POV Third Person, Physical Abuse, Pre-Volume 3 (RWBY), Prostitution, Unhealthy Relationships, Verbal Abuse, Wordcount: 5.000-10.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-12 00:38:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11725896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liara_90/pseuds/Liara_90
Summary: In the aftermath of a particularly unpleasant assignment, Emerald attempts to redefine her relationship with Cinder.Cinder Fall has other plans.





	Serpent's Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> This is definitely a dark fic. Cinder is evil, and not in the 'Affably Evil' kind of way. Mind the bloody tags.

It was raining. It was cold. And Emerald Sustrai was alone.

She would have cursed, had her teeth not been clenched in an effort to keep from chattering. Even huddled as she was in the alcove of an apartment block’s doorwell, the wind and the rain lashed at her, drenching her skin and chilling the young woman to the bone. Her hair was plastered against her scalp, her clothes soaked through, her skin bluing and shriveling in equal measure. Vale's weather was _supposed_ to be mild, particularly in comparison to Mistral, but at that moment Emerald would've traded for the blizzards of Atlas or the sandstorms of Vacuo in a heartbeat.

She rubbed her forearms again, desperately and futilely, her body’s heat having long since abandoned her. She didn’t dare extract her Scroll for fear of drenching its sensitive electronics, but she must have been standing there for at least half an hour, if not longer. If she didn’t have hypothermia by the time she was picked up it would constitute a minor miracle.

Had she been properly dressed the weather might have been _tolerable_ if not enjoyable, but her attire had not been chosen for its utility. Her knee-high boots were hardly waterproof, and she stood in rising pools of frigid rainwater. Neither her crop top nor miniskirt provided much shelter from the elements, but instead clung to her skin like damp paper. Emerald had already cursed herself a hundred times for consciously _not_ taking a jacket on her way out, but it had been a typical, placid, _warm_ Valean night when she'd left. The weatherman was as treacherous as any killer or thief, she'd come to conclude.

And to think that the weather wasn’t even the worst of her complaints. She’d gargled with rainwater as best she could since stepping outside, but a putrid taste still lingered on her tongue. It was no exaggeration to say that Emerald would have literally _killed_ for a toothbrush at that moment.

Only a seething rage kept the cold from overwhelming her, Emerald’s anger at her abandonment fanning fires of indignant anger.

She barely looked up when a white van slowed in front of her. She’d let her hopes rise and be dashed a dozen times since the downpour had started, before deciding to keep her gaze narrowly focused on the curb beneath her. Vale didn’t have much of a nightlife on the best of evenings, and amidst the thunderous downpour the city was already asleep. Every vehicle that had passed her, however infrequently, could have been her rescue, and every car that failed to stop felt like a betrayal. She hated herself for having the self-discipline of an over-eager puppy, for letting her emotions oscillate wildly at every bit of traffic. But desperation had a way of disintegrating her resolve.

When the van didn’t roll past her, however, the illumination of two powerful headlights continuing to brighten her meek shelter, she dared a glance.

 _‘He_ finally _showed up.’_

Emerald took a half-step forward, then paused, forcing herself to be _careful_ despite her cravings to be warm and dry. To ignore the numbness spreading across her hands and her feet. She bit her lip and remembered her instructions, waiting for the driver to make the first move.

The window rolled down...

"Hay baby, how much for a night?"

Torchwick's voice was fingernails on a chalkboard, his self-amused laugh caustic to her ears. Emerald nearly screamed in frustration. He was _not_ supposed to be the one picking her up.

"F-f- _fuck_ you," Emerald managed to get out, despite the numbness in her lips and the chattering of her teeth.

Roman rolled his eyes, unimpressed with her wit. "Get in."

Emerald darted out from the marginal safety of her nook, hissing involuntarily as the rain pounded her, now fully unimpeded. Keeping her head bowed, she raced around to the passenger’s side-door, only for her hand to freeze on the handle. Barely visible over the window was a mop of pastel hair, and that was all she needed to see. Emerald’s hand flew off the door-handle; walking halfway across the city on a rainy night suddenly seemed like a _much_ more attractive option.

Whether Neapolitan had taken her name from her color palette or vice versa Emerald had never cared to find out. If there was one person she could tolerate even less than Torchwick, it was the nauseatingly-smug, infuriatingly-mute _doll_ who shadowed him like an obedient lapdog.

Emerald barely suppressed a snarl at the sight of Roman's right-hand woman, and were it not for the thunderous downpour she would've taken her chances in the streets. "Open the back door!" she called out to Roman, half-yelling to be heard over the rain. When she yanked on the handle on the side of the van, though, it didn’t budge.

“You’re going to want to take a seat up front,” Roman called back, and even over the downpour the pretentiousness in his voice was clear. “Neo and I left some ‘unfinished work’ in the back.”

Neo’s door flew open, and only the non-negligible risk of trench foot motivated Emerald to clamber inside.

Torchwick’s little demon sat facing her, a malevolent smile on her face as she tilted her head at Emerald with an expression of mock inquisitiveness. Emerald wordlessly thanked the gods that the van had three seats in the front, because otherwise only _one_ of them was going to make it out alive. Torchwick’s foot was on the gas before Emerald had even slammed the door shut, the van speeding off through darkened streets. Towards _home_.

That was the one thing about her situation that Emerald was unreservedly thankful for.

She took a moment to revel in the warmth and dryness of the van, even if she was doing her utmost to soak the upholstery just by sitting on it. She yanked off her boots and cranked the heat, letting her shriveled feet rest against the heaters now spewing hot air into the van. A sideways glance confirmed that Neo was wholly nonplussed by her antics, though Roman couldn’t mask a scowl of disgust.

“What the fuck took you so long?” Emerald demanded, as soon as she was sure she wouldn’t stumble over numbed lips. She was still _cold_ , her soaked clothes hugging her like an icy blanket – but at least she was regaining circulation in her extremities.

“Sorry, kid, Neo and I had a mission from Cinder,” explained Roman, oh-so-aware of how invoking _her_ name was a way to win any argument. “Something that was a _little_ more pressing than chauffeuring you from one john to the next.”

What little reserves of patience Emerald retained evaporated in a heartbeat. A moment later she was toppling into Neo, cursing herself for skipping the seatbelt as the van swerved violently to the right.

Emerald _shoved_ herself off of Neo, disentangling herself as forcefully as possible. Then she took in Torchwick’s expression, reveling in his white-knuckled grip on the wheel, the way he glanced at his side-view mirror in a paroxysm of confusion. It _clicked_ in his mind a moment later, and Emerald positively _savored_ the way his expression morphed from bewilderment to realization to anger.

“ _Real_ fucking professional, kid,” Roman swore, as his heartbeat only gradually resumed its normal rhythm. Adrenaline was still coursing through his veins, his nervous system still convinced they had _barely_ avoided running over a gaggle of children. Roman might have known what Emerald’s Semblance was, but that hardly made him immune to her illusions. “What if I’d swerved right into a fucking light pole? You think she’d still let you stick around after your little screw-up with Tukson?”

Once again, invoking Cinder Fall had the effect of bring Emerald’s mind screeching to a halt. The thought of angering her, disappointing her, of being forced to _leave_ her… It was horrifying, the stuff of nightmares, only far more real than phantasmal monsters. From the first day she'd met Cinder, Emerald had never imagined a day without the woman in her life, never imagined a future they did not share together. The solitary existence she’d lived since childhood was so removed from where she was now... it had become a foggy memory in no more than a few months with Cinder. What would she possibly do with her life, if not spend it with _her_?

But for the very first time, Emerald - soaked, shivering, and with a rancid taste in her mouth – contemplated it…

…If only for a moment. She shook her head, droplets of rain spattering the van’s interior, before refocusing her attention on the most immediate source of her wrath.

“Someone was supposed to pick me up forty-five minutes ago,” said Emerald, folding her arms across her chest, defiantly. “Very _professional_ , Torchwick.”

Roman shrugged, unapologetically. “Your boyfriend’s surveillance gig took longer than normal, so-”

“Mercury is _not_ my boyfriend,” hissed Emerald, giving Roman exactly the reaction he’d been hoping for.

He glanced at Neo, who met his eyes with a smirk. “ _Ah_ , young love. It’s so cute when they deny it, isn’t it, Neo?” The smaller woman smiled softly at the jibe.

Emerald, however, managed to bite her tongue (this time), forcing Torchwick to switch to a different track of torment. “Look, Em, I know you don’t like it when the grown-ups neglect you, but sometimes it’s because they’re doing Really Important Things,” he continued, talking to her like she was a five-year old. He paused, his antics unrewarded, then abandoned his efforts to rile her up and returned to a normal tone of voice. “We needed information. Prick was more stubborn than we thought. Took Neo a whole _eight_ minutes to get him to talk.”

Neo grinned menacingly at that, an undeniably _psychopathic_ glint to her eye. It was only then that Emerald noticed a pair of disposable latex gloves on the floor of the car, resting next to her boots, light blue in color except for splotches of crimson red.

Emerald let out a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. There was something just _wrong_ about Neo.

They rode in silence for several minutes. Roman stared dully at the road ahead. Neo curled herself up on her seat. Emerald sulked. Normally she would’ve insisted on turning on the radio for any drive longer than five minutes, but she had no appetite at the moment to get into another fight with Roman about the shitty music of his generation.

They stopped at a red light, the first in ages. Rain trickled down Emerald's window, obfuscating her view of reality.

“So… how did your assignment go?” asked Roman, his gaze never drifting from the pavement before them.

Emerald raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Since when do you fucking care?”

Roman let out a weary sigh. “Just trying to make small talk, kid. It’s a thing people do when driving. And Maidens know I’m not getting any out of _her_.” Neo scowled slightly at the taunt, but otherwise didn’t react, her eyes having drifted shut.

Emerald shook her head, staring out at the rain-soaked streets through her window, at the streetlights that were little more than blurry orbs. “I did what Cinder told me to do,” said Emerald, talking as much to herself as to Roman. “Since men can apparently only think with their dicks, it turns out it was pretty easy. The sad fuck was so desperate he’d sell out his country’s defense plans for a quick blow.” The words were venom on her tongue, her disgust coating every word.

 _Disgust_. That’s what she was feeling. Disgust at the old man she’d spent the night with. At the way he’d let his body waste away along with his marriage and children, all three the victims of alcohol and neglect. At how eagerly he’d leapt at the chance to betray his homeland. At what she’d been told to do for him, to pay his price. And at what she _had_ done for him, on her orders.

“Huh. You know, she’s never told Neo to do anything like that,” mused Roman, though his attempt to make the insinuation sound like a spontaneous thought failed miserably. Emerald saw the trap, the seeds of doubt he was trying to plant in her mind. But she couldn’t keep them from taking root.

Cinder ordered them to do all manner of unseemly acts, had done so from the very first day she’d found Emerald, the thief’s hands filled with stolen goods. Murder, arson, theft, fraud. Emerald barely blinked at those anymore, the nightmares they’d once caused replaced with lurid dreams of the woman who ordered them.

 _These_ assignments, though… _these_ she did not forget so easily. She kept no secrets from Cinder – she would never have wanted nor dared to. Cinder knew of her orientation, her preferences, had no doubted intuited her minion’s feelings for her… but she never batted an eye when ordering Emerald to sate the needs of lonely old men. Cinder had ensnared and entrapped more fools using Emerald than she ever had with lien; she had no compunctions about using her subordinates for seduction.

Emerald had accepted that. Accepted that it was necessary for the Mission, the Plan, to allow Cinder to reach the pinnacle of power she so deserved to obtain. How many nights had Emerald spent envisioning their day of triumph, when Cinder would sit atop a throne with the Four Kingdoms at her feet? Emerald couldn’t decide if she liked the title ‘Queen’ or ‘Empress’ better, but whatever Cinder decided on Emerald wanted to be there. Wanted to be _with_ her, at the moment when all of Remnant was basked in the glow of Cinder Fall’s resplendent glory…

So she’d swallowed her pride, her compunctions, broken the oaths she’d sworn to herself while living in alleys and stealing bread from the market. She murdered the guilty and the innocent alike without so much as a flicker of remorse, so what grounds did she have to complain? Sometimes Cinder needed something other than a thief and a killer…

As they reached the highway, the stripes on the road blurring together into a line, Roman Torchwick made his move.

“She’s using you, kid,” he said, and for once his voice was free of mockery or condescension. Emerald didn’t turn to face him, but she couldn’t ignore his words. “Pimping you out whenever she thinks it’ll get her ahead.”

“I’m _honored_ to help her,” Emerald spat back, a righteous anger warming her core. “ _You_ should be, too.”

Roman raised his fingers from the wheel in an expression of mock surrender. “Hey, don’t get me wrong, I love working for Miss Fall. Smart, beautiful, and pays an order of magnitude better than the nearest competitor.” He paused. “But you can’t be a complete doormat, Em. Look at your man-child of a partner. He sets some boundaries, keeps some distance. Hell, look at _me_. Cinder might be my sole client but I’m still a free agent, if you know what I mean. And she respects that. If you never stand up for yourself she’s just going to see you as a tool to be used and discarded.”

“ _I_ have a different relationship with Cinder than you,” protested Emerald. “We actually have… _feeling_ … for each other.” And how sweet it felt, declaring those feelings aloud.

Roman let out a snort of supreme disbelief. “ _Wow_. Just… _wow_.” He stared at the road, unblinking, for several seconds. “Listen, kid, there’s a reason the pros know not to mix business and pleasure. One moment you’re having naughty fantasies about the boss, the next she’s got a love-smitten slave who she whores out on weekends.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Emerald spat back, her indignant anger boiling over. But from the corner of her eye she could see that Roman wasn’t smirking. And that _was_ unusual.

The rest of the trip was passed in uncomfortable silence, until the van rolled to a halt outside a manor on the outskirts of Vale. The lull in the motion seemed to wake Neo from the nap she’d drifted into. The pinpricks of blood dotting her outfit evidently didn’t keep her from sweet dreams.

“Well… here we are,” declared Roman, completely unnecessarily, as Emerald stared out through rain-streaked windows.

She began sliding back into her boots, wincing at the sogginess. “Listen, kid,” said Roman, turning to face her. “I’m not saying you should leave. I’m just saying that keeping things professional between you and Cinder is probably in everyone’s best interests.” He glanced out the window, as if checking to see if they were being watched. “And if you ever need a quiet place to crash, well… you know my Scroll number.”

Emerald stared at Torchwick for several long seconds, trying to piece apart his motives. Cinder had warned her about him, cautioned her not to listen to him. _Certainly_ not to befriend him. He was a rat, a vile opportunist, a mercenary who cared for nothing but himself. Cinder had brought him onboard because he was a conman without equal, a snake unmatched in its deviousness. _He_ was the disposable one, Emerald knew, the one they’d use and discard like a soiled napkin when everything was wrapped up. He had no place in Cinder’s New World. _He_ would not be allowed to remain with Cinder Fall.

That’s what Emerald had been told, and that’s what she, with all her heart, believed.

“Take care of yourself, Torchwick,” replied Emerald, icily. “I guess that’s what you’re best at, isn’t it?”

She exited the van without another word, forcing herself not to glance back at it, even when it didn’t immediately speed off. It was somehow still raining, but this time Emerald embraced it, wishing the torrential downpour would wash Roman’s words from her mind. Steeling herself, Emerald let out an indistinct snarl and made her way towards the manor.

She had no idea how many safehouses Cinder had at her disposal, but this was unquestionably the nicest of them. Far from the cavernous warehouses or cramped apartments she’d had to make do with for so long, the mansion was somewhere Emerald would’ve been content to never leave. The sprawling home was built in the pre-War Valean style, though with all the modern amenities, like actual running water and electricity. The gardens were resplendent, the view stunning, the hallways bedecked with painted masterpieces from the Four Kingdoms and beyond. Emerald didn’t dare ask if this place was special to Cinder, perhaps even her permanent home, though out of all the residences they’d used Emerald believed that this was the only one worthy of her. Not long-term, of course - not even the Schnee’s fabled White Castle was resplendent enough for Cinder – but until the Plan succeeded, Emerald supposed it was an acceptable stopgap.

The gate was already open by the time Emerald reached it, and she crossed the distance to the door with a light jog. Nobody greeted her at she ascended the marble steps, the wood-paneled doors remained closed as she reached them. Emerald’s heart sunk, but only a little. Cinder was _here_ , she knew.

The door was unlocked, thankfully, and Emerald entered the mansion’s foyer, a room that could be dwarfed by nothing outside a palace. The door swung shut behind her, the noise echoing through cavernous hallways. Only the solemn _tick-tock_ of a grandiose clock heralded her arrival.

Emerald plopped herself down on the floor, carpeted with the finest Mistrali rugs, unceremoniously yanking her waterlogged boots off yet again. She stared at the marbled floor. It was pink and white, and far too bright. It was what made Emerald believe this wasn’t actually Cinder’s home, as much as it _could_ have been. Cinder loved darker colors, she knew, obsidian blacks and sanguine reds. She preferred dark wood to marble, polished glass to precious metals. The manor was beautiful, but it was hardly Cinder’s chosen aesthetic.

Emerald’s idle musings were interrupted by the sound of heeled shoes, _clicking_ in the distance off the polished floors. Emerald scrambled to her feet, practically tripping over herself in her hurry to be presentable. She’d wanted to see Cinder as soon as possible, though now that her mistress was fast approaching Emerald was desperate for a shower and a change of clothes. Facing her love while dressed as she was felt… _wrong_.

“Cinder!”

The name escaped Emerald’s lips as soon as its owner rounded the corner, the thief’s attempts at self-restraint vanishing at the sight. Cinder varied her appearance very little day-to-day, though whichever burgundy sheath dress she wore never failed to rob the thief of her breath. She moved with a grace and elegance the younger woman found otherworldly, beautiful beyond measure, beyond what was possible for mere mortals to obtain. The slit of the dress and its décolletage conspired to deprive Emerald of her reasoning. The shoes of dark glass on her feet _clicked_ across marbled floor before reaching the carpet upon which Emerald stood, Cinder’s gait unaffected by the punishing stilettos.

“ _Emerald_.”

Cinder practically _exhaled_ her name, savoring it on her tongue like an exotic delicacy, and the heat of her breath warmed Emerald to her core. Slender fingers curled around Emerald’s jaw, cupping it gently in Cinder’s hand. “You’re freezing.”

“I don’t… feel cold,” Emerald murmured, speaking the truth. The water still dripping from her was irrelevant, unnoticed, the damp fabric clinging to her skin impossible to feel when competing with Cinder’s touch.

Cinder’s eyes shimmered, and the warmth in Emerald’s core spread throughout her body. Her skin, her hair, the very air in her lungs seemed to rise in temperature. Emerald’s knees bent slightly as the sensation raced through her body, the feeling of stepping into a warm shower after returning from a blizzard, only a thousand times again as pleasurable.

When Cinder’s hand slipped from Emerald’s face, the thief was no longer dripping wet. Indeed, her hair felt like it’d been blow-dried, and her clothes straight from the dryer. There were more impressive displays of Cinder’s mastery of her Semblance, but none Emerald liked quite as a much as that one.

“Would you care for something to drink?” Cinder’s back was already turned to her, and Emerald scrambled to catch up as her lady strolled away, out of the antechamber and into a living room. A bottle of wine and two glasses rested atop a small table.

“Just… if you’re having something, sure,” answered Emerald, shuffling about slightly. She’d never shared Mercury’s taste for cheap beer, and underage drinking had been one of the few crimes that had had no appeal to her. Coming into Cinder’s employ had provided her with access to significantly finer beverages, but even hundred-lien glasses did little for her palette.

Cinder made no note of her recalcitrance, though, deftly pouring two glasses of Vacuan red. Emerald took the proffered glass with a small smile, taking a sip more out of politeness than thirst. She lacked the aristocratic upbringing that would’ve given her insight into the vintage, let her comment on its bouquet and aroma – everything just taped _grapey_ to her – but this was better than normal, she had to admit.

“Thank you,” said Emerald, taking a seat on a small couch. Cinder sat opposite her in an ornate armchair, some Neo-Mantlesque piece that would’ve looked gaudy and ostentatious were it not for the woman seated in it.

“I’ve already received more of the files we needed, so I know that your mission was a success,” began Cinder, speaking leisurely and unhurriedly. “More importantly, we now have all we need to blackmail him for breaching the terms of his security clearance. Should he disobey us in the future, the proper authorities will be notified of his… _indiscretions_.”

Emerald nodded, taking some small measure of comfort in the fact that the man who’d used her had in effect forfeited his life to them. They could provide Valean authorities with evidence of his treason and have him serving ten-to-twenty years before sunrise. It was a trap they had sprung countless times. Find someone who was lonely, bitter, and had access to something they wanted. Get them to make a small exchange - information for lien or love. Then threaten to destroy them if they didn’t compound their betrayal. It was a brave soul that chose to confess his misdeeds to the authorities rather than dig a deeper hole in the vain hope of escaping.

It didn’t make the first part of the trap any more enjoyable, though. And Emerald had been the _bait_ far too many times.

She lacked a stand of her own to rest her glass on, so Emerald kept it cradled in both hands, swirling it absent-mindedly. The sloshing liquid seemed to transfix her, captivating her gaze with the way it lapped up against the brim but never quite splashed over. It was easier to stare at the wine than to think, than to try to string words together into an expression of her feelings. How was she supposed to describe her disquiet? How could she possibly articulate her qualms at Cinder’s dictates?

“You have a problem.” Cinder’s voice snapped her from her ruminations. Emerald looked up, staring into the molten fire of Cinder’s gaze. There was no question in her tone, no ambiguity or room for refusal. It was a statement, plain and simple. There was no point in lying, Emerald knew, she’d never once been capable of concealing _anything_ from the woman. “What is it?”

“I don’t want… I don’t like being used as a prostitute,” she finally managed to get out, the fingers of one hand curling around the stem of her glass.

“Oh?” Cinder rarely wasted words on mindless exclamations, and Emerald took her cue to continue.

“I’ve stolen for you,” she began, struggling to find her words. “And killed people. And tons of other stuff. And I’m fine with that. It’s just...” she was staring at the floor, unable to meet Cinder’s gaze. “Neo never has to do stuff like this. Stuff like seducing fat old men. Neither does Merc. And it’s just… when I was living on the streets I swore I’d never stoop to that level.” She was suddenly acutely aware of the outfit she was wearing. “I don’t like being used. It’s… _degrading_.”

Emerald trailed off into silence as the last words left her lips, and an uneasy quiet descended over the room, the crackling of an unattended fireplace the only source of noise. Emerald didn’t dare look up from the floor.

“You’ve been talking with Torchwick, haven’t you?” mused Cinder, once again in that tone of voice suggesting there was no question in her mind. Emerald made the faintest shrug of acknowledgement. “I told you not to listen to his… _opinions_.” There was no anger in Cinder’s tone, but the disappointment was impossible to miss.

Cinder rose to her feet, one leg uncrossing over the other. “Wait here,” she ordered, as if Emerald was going to run away as soon she was out of sight.

She strolled out of the living room at a leisurely pace, and Emerald was left alone with her thoughts. She took another gulp of the wine, grimacing slightly at the taste.

' _This is okay, isn't it? We're just... talking. Professionally._ ' She had wanted to have this conversation for some time, really, had been rehearsing her talking points in the recesses of her subconscious. There was nothing unreasonable about what she was asking, was there? A slight change to the assignments she was given? Surely that wasn't the kind of thing that would anger Cinder. Surely such a small request wouldn't imperil their relationship?

 _Right_?

It didn't take long for her courage to collapse, for counter-arguments to leap forward like devil's advocates. 

The small fires of indignation Roman had so crudely stoked were left to flicker and die, unattended by Emerald. Anger was hard to sustain without something to be angry _at_ , and Cinder had left Emerald to stew alone, her words of displeasure fresh on the thief's mind.

Her steely resolve was gone in minutes, certainty and confidence replaced with doubt and dread. She cursed Roman, cursed the slippery little viper that had tested her, tempted her, put words into her mouth. Filled her with righteous indignation and then let her loose to see what’d happen.

She’d pushed too far, hadn’t she? She wasn't even that angry, not really, she should've given the issue a night's sleep at the very least. And she was just too _tired_ to have this conversation now, really. Why had she even brought it up, again?

The _click_ of Cinder’s glass heels heralded her return a full minute before she re-entered, carrying a leather-bound briefcase. Emerald dared glancing up at her, but now the lady of fire chilled her with an icy gaze.

Cinder dropped the briefcase unceremoniously on the couch beside Emerald, flipping open the lid a second later. It was filled to the brim with lien, causing Emerald’s eyes to widen in surprise. “Here you are, then,” declared Cinder, her voice so strangely cold, almost devoid of emotion. “200,000 lien.”

“What’s this for?” Emerald couldn’t help but asking, fingertips brushing over high-denomination bills. Was Cinder trying to bribe her, give her a bonus or a raise for her…

“Your severance pay,” Cinder stated.

Emerald’s world fell out from under her.

“W-w-w…” she couldn’t make words. Iron bands coiled around her stomach, a cold sweat broke out across her skin.

“You no longer wish to work with me,” said Cinder, and for the first time Emerald could hear the embers of rage in her tone. “As per our agreement, I promised to provide you with the resources you need to support yourself in the event that our relationship is ended.” She paused. “We're done.”

Stark terror seized Emerald, fear smothering every other emotion she'd had the room to feel. So much of her world had been built around Cinder, so much of her mind devoted to the lady in red. Losing Cinder would be like losing a fragment of her psyche, of her soul...

“No!” Emerald finally found her voice. “That’s not what I meant. I mean, the money, it’s… it’s…”

“Not enough?” interjected Cinder, finishing the sentence completely differently from how Emerald had intended. “Very well. In twenty-four hours I will have be able to present you with five years’ pay, in cash. I _trust_ that will be sufficient to buy a permanent parting?”

“I don’t _want_ more money,” Emerald pleaded, struggling to articulate herself. Cinder wasn’t giving her time to react, time to _think_ …

“Why not?” Cinder let out a derisive snort. “You’re no different from Torchwick, are you? He sees this work as just another job, and when it becomes too distasteful for him, he’ll leave. He cares nothing about my plan, my vision, about _me_. You started off as a thief, Sustrai, taking as much as you could get your hands on. Why should I have expected you to be any different?”

Emerald was already crumpling at the tirade, trying to make herself small, invisible. “I care about you, Cinder,” murmured Emerald, her voice barely a whisper. She dared look up-

-and Cinder slapped her across the face. The wine glass flew from Emerald’s hand, shattering on the floor. Dark red liquid seeped into the carpet. Emerald’s Aura absorbed the blow, but she still felt the pain, the sharp _sting_ of Cinder’s palm on her cheek. Tears welled at her eyes, unbidden.

“ _Liar_.” Cinder spat the word at her. Emerald flinched, the accusation far more painful than the blow.

“I’m not! I mean I-” Emerald got to her feet, but Cinder shoved her back down.

“You’re a mercenary, the same as everyone else,” Cinder _seethed_ , and the flames in the fireplace suddenly grew to a small bonfire. “You take the jobs that strike your fancy, if the price is right. You leave as soon as things stop going your way. You don't care _at all_ about how you're hurting me. About how you're breaking my heart.”

There was no time to parse the logic of Cinder's words, Emerald didn't have the emotional bandwidth to feel anything other than _dread_ and _sorrow_. All she could think about was that she'd _hurt_ Cinder.

“Please, Cinder, you have to believe me.” Emerald slid off the couch, sinking to her knees on the floor. There might have been a shard of glass under her leg, but she didn’t care right now. “I want to work for you. I want your plan to succeed. I want to live in the world you’re going to rule!” The last sentence came out erratically, punctuated by choked sobs as her emotions overwhelmed her.

“And to think I actually _cared_ about you.” Cinder shot her a disgusted look, then turned her back to the woman kneeling before her. "Where would you be if I hadn't rescued your ungrateful hide?" Cinder's tone demanded an answer, but Emerald couldn't begin to provide one. “ _Pathetic_.”

Emerald felt like she was dying. And in that moment, she _wanted_ to die. Or rather, she just didn't care for living anymore. Not if continuing life meant living with these thoughts and feelings and _wounds_ for decade after decade. Cinder had made her pains abundantly clear - Emerald had _hurt_ her, and the thief doubted she would ever be able to earn forgiveness.

She sobbed.

The world was going to be remade without her. She’d had her chance at greatness, at purpose, at _love_ , and she’d thrown it all away, thrown it away because of a bloated ego and a few minutes waiting in the rain. She was an _idiot_. Cinder was right. She was a liar, a fraud. She only thought about herself, nothing of what Cinder needed. She didn’t _deserve_ to be with Cinder.

She didn’t deserve to be happy.

The voices in her head were the most effective torturers imaginable. They knew what Emerald feared, what she desired, what she was scared and ashamed of. They wasted little time finding the greatest sources of her anguish, of building upon them until her mind was but a monument to her regrets.

Emerald was not interrupted, allowed to shudder with sobs, as silently as she could manage. When she could finally force her eyes open, all she could see was the shard of glass on the carpet beside her. How easy it would be to lower her Aura. To replace the pain in her heart with something else. With _anything_ , or just _nothing_. She could almost feel it, the catharsis that would come with one quick slash. It would be so easy…

She met Cinder’s gaze, if only as reflected through a fragment of glass. Emerald looked up. The anger in Cinder’s expression had dissipated. Now she just looked… _sad_. Wounded. _Betrayed_. Emerald knew she had done this. Inflicted this upon the woman she loved, who might even have loved her back one day, if she hadn’t been so selfish…

“I’m sorry.” The words were so inadequate, but they were all that Emerald could muster.

She returned her gaze to the floor, head bowed. She picked up the sliver of glass, rubbing it between her fingers. It was still sharp. Emerald let her Aura fade to nothing, and she brought the glass to her forearm. She didn’t press down – not yet – but traced lines absent-mindedly across her skin. The pressure felt good. The panic and sorrow that had overwhelmed her moments ago were gone, replaced with something akin to tranquility. With focus. With relief.

Maybe, just _maybe_ , she could make Cinder care for her again. Demonstrate just how sorrowful she was for her actions.

The shard pressed a little deeper. Emerald felt pain for the first time, and the sensation dominated her mind. Even in her sorrow she could feel the acute pain, but the iron bands around her stomach seemed to uncoil just a little at the pressure. The pain focused her mind, concentrating her consciousness into the patch of skin slowly being sliced open. 

How much harder could it be?

“ _I will forgive you._ ”

Cinder’s words pierced the fog that had settled over her mind.

“What?”

The woman crossed the distance to Emerald, until she was towering over her, casting her in shadow. “ _Forgiveness_ , Emerald. I am willing to put this incident behind us, indeed, pretend it never happened. That’s what you want, isn’t it? For things to go back to the way they were before?”

The shard of glass slipped from Emerald’s grasp.

“Y-yes. Yes! Please, Cinder, _yes_! I’m sorry…I’m sorry…I’m sorry…” she repeated the words, relief growing with each repetition, cathartically.

“There is one condition, however,” continued Cinder, her tone as indifferent to Emerald’s lament as ever.

“Anything, Cinder, please, I swear! I don’t want to leave you!” Emerald’s hands clutched at Cinder’s calf, as if she could physically hold her only chance for love in place.

Cinder kicked her away. “Get up.” Emerald was on her feet before she could think. “I need to know that I can trust you again, Emerald,” Cinder said, her words now soft and silken. “Every time that you disobey me, _question_ me, my trust in you diminishes.” Cinder’s fingers brushed against her cheeks, manicured nails trailing down tear-streaked skin. Her fingers continued down, coming to a rest at Emerald’s throat.

“You can trust me, Cinder,” pleaded Emerald. Her own words sounded hollow in her ears, no matter how much desperation she poured into them.

“Can I?” Cinder’s fingers curled around her neck, the pressure cutting into her airway. “How do I know that you won’t abandon me at a critical juncture? Betray me for the right price? That’s the kind of person you are, isn’t it, Sustrai?”

“I’m not… I wouldn’t,” said Emerald, struggling to push air through her throat. The pain was real, the pressure hovering at the point of suffocation, but she had no desire to fight back. “I’ll do anything.”

“Why?”

“Because…” the word came out a shallow gasp. “Because I _love_ you.”

“Declarations of love are cheap to make," growled Cinder. "and so often worth their words alone. “What I need to know is… would you _die_ for that love?”

There was a challenge in the words, an invitation to deny them. Cinder’s fingers tightened their grip, and Emerald choked as the last air was forced from her throat. Her lungs were already burning. But she didn’t fight back. Her hands came up to Cinder’s, instinctively, but she didn’t try to pry off the fingers coiled around her throat. And why should she want to?

“ _Yes_.”

It was with the tiniest of breaths that Emerald murmured the word, a promise she knew she’d never break. She had no desire to live without Cinder. Or rather, if Cinder didn't want her, she had no desire to live.

Emerald felt her body go limp, her limbs leaden. She flickered on the edge of consciousness, the burning of her body the only sensation her brain could process. Just before her vision blackened entirely, Emerald saw the smile cross Cinder’s face.

“I love you, Emerald.”

Cinder released her throat and Emerald collapsed to the ground, exhilaration rushing through her body and mind. Every cell in her body screamed in relief as her lungs greedily gulped in mouthfuls of air, her whole body feeling flush with life as sensation returned to her muscles, oxygen racing through blood. The air had never tasted as sweet as it had right then, and a wave of euphoria coursed through her.

But that was nothing compared to what was going on in her mind. _Cinder loves me._ The one thought drowned out all others, filling her with an elation she hadn’t though possible. She wanted to laugh, to cry, to drown in the wonderful sensation. Mind and body conspired to overwhelm rational thought, to make _this moment_ the most heavenly of Emerald’s life.

The moment that she had promised she would do anything for Cinder.

Cinder knelt down beside her, grabbing a fistful of Emerald’s mint-green hair. Any other moment in her life Emerald would’ve winced in pain, but suffering and pleasure were now inexorably intertwined.

“Will you kill for me?” breathed Cinder, carmine lips hovering in Emerald’s face, just out of reach.

“ _Yes_ ,” promised Emerald, and her vow was rewarded with a kiss. A kiss of passion, a fire threatening to engulf her.

“Will you fuck for me?” The word seem to sully Cinder's lips, with a crassness alien to her tongue.

“Yes,” Emerald repeated, without a moment’s hesitation in her tone or mind. The Emerald that had had doubts, quibbles, reservations – that Emerald was dead. _She_ would never have Cinder.

Another kiss, and this time Cinder’s teeth threatened to break the skin Emerald’s lip. Emerald’s body collapsed, and Cinder pressed against her.

“Will you die for me?”

Emerald had no need to speak. She was Cinder’s. She’d give her everything she had to offer – body, soul, mind.

Emerald let out a decadent cry and Cinder’s nails raked her skin, drawing blood. She let the fire of Cinder’s passions overwhelm her, consume her. _This_ was the love she wanted, Emerald knew, searing and unending.

Whatever doubts she’d had were burned away that night.

**Author's Note:**

> So I can't say I'm entirely happy with how this fic turned out, possibly because it's a very dark subject matter, and probably because I don't trust myself to write it well. But it's been sitting on my hard drive, so I figured I might as well publish it and solicit feedback from anyone interested. So... have at it.


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